Blood Lust
by Dr. Raven Horror PhD
Summary: The town of Sunnydale has not seen the last of Raven's arch enemy, Razor, as she plots against Buffy, Angel, and the Canis.


Title: Blood Lust - Part Three of the Canis Nosferatu Chronicles (Chapters 1-10)  
Author: Dr. Raven, Horror PhD (email: horrorphd@aol.com)  
Summary: The town of Sunnydale has not seen the end of Raven's arch enemy, Razor.  
Rating: R (violence, language, general adult angst)  
Distribution: Please ask before distributing.  
Feedback: Please! Please! Please! Just don't make me mad...I'm running out of places to hide the bodies. :)  
Timeline: This story takes place in Season 3, just after "Bad Girls."  
Disclaimer: All things Buffy belong to Joss, the WB, Mutant Enemy and all that jazz. Raven, Razor and Deacon are my brain children alone, and I take no responsibility for their actions.   
**WARNING** - The characters of BTVS as we know them are going to undergo some major life changes in this episode of the Canis Nosferatu series. Your world may never be the same after you read this.   
  
CHAPTER 1  
  
The night was, as always, the perfect cloak of mystery. From the nearby shadows, a pair of emerald eyes kept close watch on the activity around The Bronze. Youthful customers loitered near the entrance, laughing and enjoying a night of freedom. Freedom from responsibility.  
  
The woman in the shadows took a long drag from her lit cigarette. Leaning against a large dumpster, she narrowed her eyes, scanning each member of the crowd. Hunting humans was never easy, but it wasn't a human she was after. Merely a vampire that chose to associate with them.   
  
Angel. Yes, that was his name. He would be the perfect vehicle for the beginning of her revenge. A morbid message that she had returned.  
  
Soon she spotted what she was after. The slayer and her friends had come to the club for an evening of dancing and merriment. The vampire was with them, oblivious to her presence. Contentment made him forget his instincts.  
  
With a casual flick of the wrist, the woman dropped her cigarette into the dust at her feet. Stepping forward, she crushed the remaining embers with the toe of her steel boot.  
  
She waited until the group had entered the club before stepping fully into view. She arched one of her mahogany eyebrows and allowed a sinister smile to grace her lips.   
  
"I do believe I am going to enjoy this," Razor purred.  
  
CHAPTER 2  
  
Raven screamed. Bolting upright in her bed, soaked in perspiration, she took a moment to let her senses come back to her. Panting, she realized that she was the victim of a vicious nightmare, and nothing more.  
  
Running a hand through her matted ebony hair, Raven swung her legs out from underneath the sheets. The floor was cool to the touch of her feet. Raven stood, allowing her silken negligee to fall to its full ankle length. She took her robe down from the bedpost and slipped it on an arm at a time.  
  
She made her way down the stairs of her newly rented apartment to the kitchen. Sparsely furnished, she did at least have the essential comforts, including a small tea kettle, which she took from its place on the stove and filled with water, intending to make herself a cup of Earl Grey.  
  
She ran the events of her nightmare over again and again in her mind. With each rerun, the details became more clouded. Yet, she could not dismiss the disturbing ache that the dream gave her. She had never experienced any sort of "vision" before, but her mother did frequently. It was something acquired with age and experience, or so she was told. Raven sincerely hoped that her dream was just that, and had no other significance.  
  
Fidgeting with the tie on her robe, Raven couldn't shake the feeling of uneasiness she experienced. She opened a drawer in her kitchen near where she kept the utensils, and fished through the multitude of papers that were kept there. Finding her address book, she flipped through the pages until she could find someone who she could confide in...someone who, like her, was crazy enough to be awake at 3 in the morning.  
  
Finding the number she sought, she picked up the phone and dialed.  
  
CHAPTER 3  
  
"Hello?" Giles mumbled, picking up the receiver on the phone near his bed.  
  
"Rupert? It's Raven. Did I wake you?"  
  
"Hm, wha...oh Raven...no, no, not really. It was more of a restless sleep," Giles said, rubbing his eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry," Raven said. "I honestly didn't mean to wake you, it's just that I...well, this is going to sound really stupid."  
  
"Raven, I've lived on the Hellmouth for longer than I care to admit. Stupid is no longer a word I use to describe things," Giles said.  
  
"I had a nightmare," Raven said flatly.  
  
Giles blinked and shook his head. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes again, not realizing that he was contributing to the now awkward silence of the conversation.  
  
"See," Raven continued, "told you it was stupid."  
  
"No, no," Giles stammered. "It just took me by surprise. I was expecting something, well..."  
  
"A little more grand?" Raven answered.  
  
"Well, yes," Giles said.   
  
He heard the faint sound of a kettle steaming in the background. "Just a minute," Raven said. "My water's boiling."  
  
_She called me because she had a nightmare?_ Giles pondered. _What the bloody hell does she expect me to do, read her a bedtime story?_  
  
"You know," Raven said, coming back to the phone, "you really are a bad influence on a girl."  
  
"How so?" Giles asked.  
  
"I'm drinking Earl Grey. You've got me hooked on tea."  
  
Giles chuckled. "Should I apologize?"  
  
"No, no," Raven said. "It's actually been a little bit of a comfort. Having a cup of tea to sip, that is. Helps me clear my mind."  
  
"Of the nightmare?" Giles asked.  
  
"Yes. I know it sounds childish and insignificant, but..." Raven began to trail off.  
  
"What is it?"   
  
"Well...I don't usually have nightmares," Raven said. "I'm afraid this might be a vision, a prophecy, if you will."  
  
"I didn't think that was a capability you had," Giles ventured.  
  
"Neither did I," Raven continued. "My mother has them - visions. But she's the oldest of our kind, so it stands to reason that she should have powers that the rest of us don't. I'm just afraid that maybe I've finally reached a point in my age and experience where I've developed the same dark gift."  
  
"Why do you say it's a dark gift?" Giles questioned.  
  
"Would you like to see visions of everyone you care about being brutally murdered, knowing that it could come true if you didn't do something to stop it?"  
  
"You have a point," Giles said.  
  
"This nightmare is something that I just can't shake. Every time I run the details of it over again in my mind, the whole thing becomes fuzzy and less and less coherent. But one thing is always there...and it's a bad feeling that's gnawing away at my insides."  
  
"Can you tell me any of the details?" Giles asked.  
  
"All I can remember now is that it pertained to Razor, and that she managed to exact some sort of revenge," Raven said.  
  
"Listen," Giles said, now fully awake, "why don't you come over here. Since we're both awake, and neither of us will be sleeping until this is sorted out, it's only common sense to work this out in person."  
  
"Well," Raven chuckled, "I'm not exactly dressed for a nightly excursion."  
  
Giles smiled, trying to imagine in the back of his mind just exactly what she meant by that. "Indeed," he said with a small snicker. "Give me twenty minutes, and I'll come to you."  
  
"Are you sure?" Raven asked. "I don't want to trouble you with this any more than is necessary."  
  
Giles smiled again. "Raven, for you, it's no trouble in the least. I'll see you soon."  
  
CHAPTER 4  
  
When it came to hunting, Razor had the patience of a saint.  
  
Standing outside The Bronze, she waited for the perfect time. Clad in her usual uniform of metal and blades, her exotic appearance drew many stares of admiration. She dismissed each with a carnivorous smile.  
  
Finally, at close to 4 in the morning, she saw her opportunity. Angel and his slayer left the club. Standing outside the entrance, they kissed good-bye and parted, each going in a different direction. This was her chance, and it was the best chance that she could hope for.  
  
Razor waited until the slayer was out of sight before making her move. She casually came forth from the shadows near The Bronze, closing the distance between Angel and herself with steps of pure stealth. For every inch she gained on him, her eyes narrowed, and the menacing killer within her emerging in all its glory.  
  
Angel turned, just in time to see the lethal beauty's advance on him. In a matter of seconds, she was on him, her green eyes shifting to a golden hue, her mouth drawn up in a snarl, exposing pointed and dangerous fangs. With a growl and a backhand, she had him flat on the ground.  
  
Angel laid dazed as Razor straddled him at the waist. "Well, hello, lover," she hissed.  
  
"What do you want?" Angel managed, still trying to regain his breath.  
  
"Not much," Razor purred. "Just your blood."  
  
"My what?" Angel asked, still dazed from the blow.  
  
Razor giggled evilly. "Your blood, silly." She bent forward, her face only inches from his. "You see, I'm going to drain you now...indulge my vampire half, so to speak. Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to kill you. Leave you for dead, yes, but not kill you. I'll let my dear friend, Raven, make that decision."  
  
Razor threw her head back with a roar, and dove down, plunging her fangs into the crook of Angel's neck. Paralyzed, he looked to the stars for help as his immortal blood was swiftly drained, drop by drop.  
  
"Um, excuse me? Superbitch? I do believe you're trespassing on a neck that only I have permission to bite."  
  
Razor sat up and licked some of the blood from her lips. Her eyes narrowed, and she stood, turned, and faced Buffy, who was standing with her hands firmly planted on her hips.  
  
Razor laughed wickedly, and walked towards Buffy, who never let her gaze wander from the evil creature before her.  
  
Razor stood before Buffy, an evil smile gracing her blood stained lips. With a swift swipe of her bladed forearm, she opened a large gash on the slayer's chin and sent her sprawling.  
  
"Oh, child, believe me," she cooed, "he's all yours."  
  
Buffy looked up, blood dripping from her face, only to see an empty sidewalk where Razor had stood.  
  
Empty, that is, except for a dying Angel.  
  
CHAPTER 5  
  
Raven screamed herself awake. Giles jumped, the cup of tea in his hand flying to the floor and shattering to countless pieces.  
  
She'd allowed herself to fall asleep next to him, her head laying gently on his chest, after hours of discussion and dream interpretation. But her sleep was not peaceful, instead, it was brief and consumed with torment.  
  
"You know," Giles said, "we really must do something about this...you're hard on the china."  
  
"Maybe I should invest in paper cups," Raven quipped as she sat upright, rubbing her eyes and yawning.  
  
Giles sighed and reached over, brushing a piece of Raven's ebony hair away from her face. She turned towards him for a moment, and they exchanged a gentle smile. Raven then turned her attention towards the floor, and the numerous fragments of broken ceramic mixed with spilt tea.  
  
"I'd better get something to clean that up," she said, and made her way towards the kitchen.  
  
She returned moments later with a towel and a dust pan. She bent to the floor, and cautiously picked up each piece of the broken cup.  
  
"Damn!" she shrieked, dropping one of the fragments and rushing her index finger to her mouth.  
  
Giles stood and went to her side. "Are you all right?"  
  
Raven nodded. "Yes, it's just a small cut. Damn glass."  
  
"Let me see," Giles insisted.  
  
Raven offered her injured hand, which he took in his own gently. Giles bent forward, lowering his glasses, hoping to catch a better glimpse of her scrape.  
  
Quickly, Raven tore her hand away. "No!" she yelled.  
  
Giles raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"  
  
Raven returned her finger to her mouth, again licking it clean. "You must not ever do what I'm doing now. Never drink my blood. It will kill you."  
  
"I was only trying to get a better look," Giles said, a bit surprised. "You're very nervous tonight. Is there something you're not telling me about?"  
  
"There's a lot you don't know," she said. "About a very bad past I've had."  
  
She looked at him, letting her eyes take in his expression of concern. She realized, after one look into his gentle eyes that she had been harsh in her reaction, a victim of her own past and present paranoia.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I know you only want to help."  
  
"Don't you know by now that it's more than that?" Giles said, and stood, turning away from her.  
  
Raven's gaze drifted towards the floor where more broken fragments of china still occupied space. Awkward silence filled the room. Finally, Raven stood and walked to Giles' side.  
  
"I understand more than you know," she said hesitantly.   
  
Giles turned and faced her. "Then why, in God's name, won't you let me get close to you? You have an emotional wall built up that's eight feet tall and made of impenetrable steel."  
  
"I know," she said softly. "Rupert," she said, taking his hand and leading him to the sofa, "I've been through a lot in these ten thousand years. I may not look it, and because of my appearance, people sometimes forget to remember that. But when I say I have an ugly past, I really mean I have an ugly past."  
  
Giles sat, shaking his head, trying to think of a response. The questions, the frustrations, swam randomly in his head, keeping him from saying anything intelligible.  
  
"Someday," Raven continued, silencing his attempts, "you'll know everything. But please don't make me tell you everything in a night's time. Not only is it impossible to fit ten thousand years into twelve hours, it's too draining for me to recount all at once."  
  
Their moment together was shattered by a severe pounding on the front door. Before she could rise to inquire as to who would disturb her at this hour, Raven saw her door kicked forcefully open by Buffy, obviously wounded and bleeding, and more than a little agitated.  
  
"What in God's name...?" Giles began, standing.  
  
"More like Satan's name," Buffy hissed as she entered the apartment.  
  
"Excuse me?" Raven inquired.  
  
"Your little friend," Buffy explained, "that bitch..."  
  
"Calm down," Giles interjected. "Try to gain some composure."  
  
"The one you exiled," Buffy continued.   
  
"Razor?" Raven asked. "What about her?"  
  
"She's back in town, and she's leaving postcards."  
  
"I'm not sure I understand," Giles said.  
  
"Well, let me show you," Buffy said, and indicated towards the doorway, where Angel laid slumped against the frame, pale and listless.  
  
"Dear God," Raven said in a hush. "We've got to get him inside...NOW."  
  
CHAPTER 6  
  
Raven stood at the window, her mind spinning. She should've killed Razor when she had the chance, but in killing her, there would have been other consequences. Consequences in her relationships, not only with Giles, but her pack as well.  
  
Behind her, Buffy and Giles had managed to drag Angel inside and lay him on the sofa. Raven knew what had been done. It was an ancient torture ritual known to their kind. Find a vampire that has wronged you, and drain him to the brink of death. Let him suffer slowly and finally die.  
  
"This makes no sense," she heard Giles say behind her. "He should be able to heal himself."  
  
"Not against an attack from one of us," Raven said, turning towards them. "It's rather scientific, in fact."  
  
"As in chemistry? The subject that eludes me? Great," Buffy sulked.  
  
"Chemistry...yes," Raven continued. "When a Canis bites their victim, it is either to turn them, or to torture them with a slow death, which is what we have here. There is a compound, a genetic code, transferred in both our blood and our venom, which is given to the victim in the bite, much like a snake. The code in the venom keeps a vampire's, or a human's blood, for that matter, incapable of reproducing. The code in our blood bonds with the code transferred in our venom, enabling the transformation into one of our kind, and giving the blood the ability to once again reproduce and sustain the body."  
  
"So what he needs is blood?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Yes," Raven said solemnly, "but not just ANY blood. The only thing that will heal him is a Canis' blood...nothing else will bond to the code in his system."  
  
"So, in other words," Giles began, "in order for Angel to live, he must become what you are."  
  
"That's just the beginning of the dilemma," Raven sighed. "Not only would he become one of my kind, but turning him will mean that the one who turns him will be sacrificed."  
  
"What?" Giles asked softly.  
  
Raven looked at them both with an expression of sadness in her eyes. "Razor drained him too far. Her intent was to give him a slow death. Turning him IS possible, but replenishing him means that he'd have to take more blood from his Canis sire than what is normal. That is too much for one of us to endure physically."  
  
"So whoever turns him..." Buffy pondered.  
  
"Dies," Raven stated flatly.  
  
CHAPTER 7  
  
Razor laughed deep in her throat, a rich, velvety laugh that echoed in the rafters of the nearby warehouse where she and Deacon had taken up residence.  
  
"Was it delicious?" Deacon asked with a coy smile.  
  
Razor chuckled evilly, "In more ways than one," she said. "The little slayer didn't have a chance. She thought she'd found us in time."  
  
Deacon smiled. "So, what do we do now?"  
  
"Well," Razor began, sliding into a chair, "We wait. I'm afraid Raven's little pet vampire doesn't have much time left. He'll either die of anemia, or she'll sacrifice herself to turn him. Either way, we win."  
  
"How absolutely vindictive of you," Deacon mused, and moved towards her, kneeling at her side.  
  
"Indeed," Razor said with a smile.  
  
"And shall we celebrate with a good and distastefully bloody hunt?" Deacon asked.  
  
"I can think of nothing better to cure my boredom," Razor purred.   
  
CHAPTER 8  
  
Spike took a long pull from the bottle of whiskey. His third bottle of the night.  
  
_"Oh yes", _he thought_, "I am just a little polluted."  
  
_Taking another pull, he realized that he just didn't care. About anything. His hunts were nothing more than habit nowadays. They held no enjoyment for him; all the excitement was gone. Without Drucsilla, life was painfully boring, and he was beginning to realize that coming back to Sunnydale yet again was adding to his emotional decent.  
  
He didn't even care, or perhaps failed to notice, that he himself was being hunted from the bushes that were mere yards away from him.  
  
  
  
Deacon and Razor normally hunted as a team, but since their banishment, they had decided to start hunting on their own. Comparing their respective prizes at the end of a night's hunt brought more thrill to the chase for them both.  
  
The one before him wasn't much of a prize, that was for certain. Any slayer could bring down a drunken vampire. It would be no challenge for Deacon, but it would be a little mindless entertainment, and he reasoned that he was due for a little fun.  
  
  
  
"Hey, buddy, can you spare a drink?"  
  
Spike turned. Casually approaching was a young man, devilishly handsome and dressed in black. His pale skin set off his piercing blue eyes, and his light brown hair was a mess of tousled strands. He flashed a killer's smile, something that attracted Spike's attention immediately.  
  
"You're not from around here, are you?" Spike inquired, handing the bottle to him.  
  
"Indeed," he said, taking the bottle. "I'm from just about everywhere."  
  
"So what's your name?"  
  
"Deacon. Deacon Kriegler. Yours?"  
  
"Spike."  
  
"You're not much of a resident, either, are you Spike?" Deacon asked.  
  
"On and off resident is more like it," Spike replied. "I drift in and out of this town as it pleases me. Why I come back is beyond me. There's certainly nothing to hold me here but painful memories," he paused. "There's something different about you, but I can't quite put my finger on it," he said.  
  
"Oh?" Deacon said, arching an eyebrow.  
  
"Yeah," Spike continued. "You're not human, I can smell that much. But you're no vampire either. You've really got me at a loss."  
  
"Well, if it's any consolation, I used to be a vampire," Deacon offered.  
  
"Used to be? I'm not sure I follow."  
  
"I was turned by a creature that is infinitely more powerful."  
  
Spike chuckled. "There's only one other immortal that's powerful than a vampire, and...," he stopped, his face dropping all expression as he looked at Deacon's sly smile. "Oh, bugger me!" Spike yelled, standing. "You're one of those vampire-werewolf bastards, aren't you? Buddy my ass, you're looking for supper!"  
  
"Not exactly," Deacon said, also standing. "Just a bit of sport."  
  
With a blink, Deacon's eyes changed from steel blue to a deep amber. He curled his lips, revealing large, menacing fangs. A deep, guttural growl escaped him as he began to advance.  
  
Spike wasted no time. He was drunk, yes, but not completely without sense. He waited until Deacon was just inches from him.  
  
"And just how unbelievably stupid do you think I am?" Spike asked with a smile, and thrust forward with his head, cracking his skull with Deacon's and sending his opponent stumbling back.  
  
Deacon wavered for a moment, shaking his head. "That wasn't nice," he growled. "Can't you just lay down and die like an honorable blood-sucker? Angel certainly did."  
  
"What the bloody hell are you talking about? What did you do to Angel?"  
  
"I didn't do anything," Deacon hissed. "My mistress Razor is using him as her vehicle of revenge. Drained him almost dry, she did. Funny thing is, he was powerless to her, didn't even put up a fight. I'm sure he'll be dead by the hour's end, and now, you can join him."  
  
"Like hell I will," Spike said, charging forward.  
  
The two met each other nose to nose. Deacon spun with a roar, throwing a roundhouse. Spike caught the kick before it landed, and threw a backhand of his own, which connected square with Deacon's face, sending him again faltering back.  
  
Spike did not wait for his adversary to regain his footing. Knowing his opponent's capabilities, he rushed in on him when he was still weak, delivering a knee to Deacon's groin, winding him and driving him to his knees. With a swift punch to the face, Spike had Deacon flat on the ground.  
  
"Now," Spike said, shoving his boot under Deacon's chin, "where's Angel, and how do I fix him?"  
  
CHAPTER 9  
  
Angel was pale and motionless on the sofa in Raven's apartment. Kneeling beside him, Buffy held his hand, looking him over with an expression of sadness and worry. Raven paced in silence, her mind clearly spinning with unimaginable options. Giles sat in a wooden chair near the farthest end of the room, also wrestling with inner demons and the choices at hand.  
  
"He's slipping," Buffy whispered.  
  
Raven stopped pacing and turned. "Yes," she said, "I'm afraid he's got a half hour, maybe less. Unless I do something about it."  
  
"Meaning what?" Giles snapped as he quickly rose from his seat. "If you're thinking of sacrificing yourself to cure him, you can forget it."  
  
"Nice to know who's important to who in this house," Buffy mumbled sadly.  
  
Giles shot her a stare, "Not NOW, Buffy."   
  
"Excuse me?" Raven said, a bit agitated. "I do believe that I am the one that makes that decision, not anyone else. It's my life or his that we're talking about."  
  
"Of all people, I should think that you would be the one person who would want to see a vampire die," Giles said with venom.  
  
"I never imagined you could be so heartless," Raven said, her eyes beginning to fill with tears.   
  
Buffy stood and walked over to them. "It's not that he's heartless," she said in Giles' defense. "Giles has a history with Angel, and it's not pretty. His position doesn't make me happy, but in all honesty, I can understand where he's coming from."  
  
"Angel has been the cause of more pain and suffering in my life than I should ever have had to experience," Giles continued. "Not only did he torture me endlessly for hours, but he robbed me of someone that I cared very deeply about. I refuse to endure that again by watching you sacrifice yourself so that he can live."  
  
"Giles, for God's sake!" Raven yelled in desperation, "The man, or vampire, or whatever you want to call him, saved my life from Deacon and Razor when I first got here! Surely, even though he's hurt you, you must know that his life is worth something?"  
  
"Yes, but it's not worth YOUR life," Giles said harshly.  
  
"Woah, guys, wait a minute," Buffy interjected. "There might not be a reason for fighting. Have we explored all the options?"  
  
"Like what?" Raven said as she turned away from Giles, wiping a tear from her face.  
  
"Can he replenish himself with a human? Or another vampire? Because believe me, I know a lot of seedy people that I could track down and..."  
  
"No," Raven interrupted. "It has to be one of my kind. A human or another vampire might buy him some time, but it would not cure him. He needs the genetic compound that bonds with the venom in his system to make him whole. And that compound is only found in our blood. A Canis must cure him, nothing else."  
  
"Will this asshole do?"  
  
The trio turned and stared in astonishment. Spike stood in the doorway, holding Deacon by the scruff of the neck with one hand, and keeping his arms pinned tightly with the other.  
  
"I believe in keeping Sunnydale beautiful," Spike quipped. "and besides, I think this garbage might actually be of some use."  
  
"Who the hell are you?" Raven asked.  
  
"And how the hell did you get here?" Buffy followed.  
  
"Name's Spike. And this walking piece of demon fodder gave me directions. Could someone please invite me in? This standing in the doorway bit is beginning to get on my nerves."  
  
"You're a vampire?" Raven asked.  
  
"Yes, and an acquaintance to the soon-to-be-deceased on your sofa over there. Now if you don't mind?" Spike gestured to be let in.  
  
"Come in...but one wrong move, and I'll have your head, understand?" Raven said, eyeing him warily.  
  
"Of course," Spike said, shoving Deacon through the doorway before him.  
  
CHAPTER 10  
  
Razor's eyelids fluttered, then snapped open. It was dawn, and the first rays of daylight were breaking through the boards that were barely holding the warehouse's windows together.  
  
She yawned. It had been a tiresome night. Fifteen vampires and a few select humans that were in the wrong place at the wrong time had met their grisly ends by her hands. As Razor replayed the gruesome images of blood and terror, a small smile swept over her face.  
  
Stretching, she rose from the pile of blankets that she slept on. It wasn't much, certainly not a bed, but for a creature that was part wolf, it would do as a suitable den. Some soft bedding in a dark corner was all she needed, and she had certainly slept in worse conditions.  
  
Razor rubbed the sleep from her eyes and made her way from her blankets to the open area of the warehouse. Suddenly, her feeling of morning contentment was swept away by a feeling of uneasiness. Deacon was not there.  
  
She sniffed the air. His scent was faint, indicating that he had not returned since they had each left for their respective hunts the night before. Razor's emerald eyes scanned the room, searching frantically for any sign that might lead her to his location. He had taken off on long hunts before, but she knew him well enough to know that he would've returned by dawn. Finally, her eyes fixed on an object placed just inside the door of the warehouse.  
  
It was a small box, tied with a red ribbon.  
  
Razor moved quickly, snatching up the box and inspecting it. It smelled rank to her...covered in the scent of vampire. Her feeling of uneasiness increased to one of dread. Had he gotten in over his head? Taken on more than he could handle?  
  
She pulled the ribbon off in one swift stroke. Flipping the lid of the box off and onto the floor, she rustled through the papers with her hand and found the contents with the tips of her fingers.  
  
Something soft and wet...pliable, with the feeling of silk.  
  
She grabbed the heart with her fist and pulled it out of the box, staring in disbelief at what she held in her hand. Her eyes widened. Her breath became shallow. A feeling of rage swept through her, instantly provoking her wolfen side to emerge.   
  
Razor's eyes turned to a golden hue, and her canines began to lengthen as she dropped the box, which tumbled to the floor. As it landed, a small slip of paper slid out, stained with blood.  
  
She knelt, still holding the heart in one hand, and reached with the other to retrieve the paper. Unfolding it, she read:  
  
_"You'll always have his heart. But I have his head. Leave now."_  
  
"Damn you," Razor hissed, crumpling the slip in her fist. She returned the heart to the box and stood, her fists clenched. Blood dripped from her fingertips, a mixture of Deacon's and her own, caused by the tightening of her grip on her own taloned fingers.  
  
Her eyes showed nothing short of pure fury. Turning towards the door, Razor let out a chilling roar and slammed her already bloody fist into the steel frame, almost penetrating the metal clear through.  
  
The blood was now free flowing from her hand, but she didn't care. With another shriek, she turned, and seeing piles of boxes and rubble, decided to overturn and throw each item within her reach. Finally exhausted and bleeding heavily, she slumped to the floor, hot tears streaming down her face.  
  
"I swear," she choked, "on my own blood...you have not heard the last of me, Raven. I will repay you for this."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
